"Nigel! Come on man, we're going to the beach!" James shakes his friend until he wakes with a grumble and a swear, burying his head into the sheets. "Sod off, mate. It's September."
"Well, yes. But this is September and it is St. Tropez, Nigel. Now put on a pair of pants and grab your swimming shorts. We're going to the beach."
Repetition of the previous statement makes Nigel want to get out of bed no more, and James gives up and leaves his room. They won't give up though, either of them, and he doesn't understand why they seem to insist that he go everywhere with them. Attempting to get back the glory days of university maybe. He doesn't get enough time to expand on the thought because Helen comes into his room without knocking carrying a tray containing a light breakfast. She's wearing a sundress, but he can see the ties where she's got her suit on underneath. For once she's got her hair up, too, braiding carelessly and resting on one shoulder. "Please come with us, Nigel." she insists, reaching out to hold his hand. He still looks unsure and leans forward to whisper in his ear, "James has told me that the rule is topless."
It doesn't take Nigel more than ten minutes to be ready to go after that. They spend the entire afternoon laughing and listening to the portable radio James has brought along with him. James looks up from his book and wrinkle his nose in mock disproval as Nigel and Helen see fit to scream and chase each other with handfuls of salt water, their little water fight ending when Nigel traps her legs between his arms, lifts her like a sack of potatoes, and throws her into the waiting surf. She bobs right back up in a second, shaking water from her face and swearing at him in the fondest manner possible. And just like that, they turn and look back at James with a down right devilish look on their faces. His live-saving device is waterproof to a certain degree but he'd never survive being dipped in the ocean like she had.
Helen runs up to him and slides into his lap smoothly, while Nigel prys the book from his hand and turns up the radio. "I love this song," she insists with a sloppy kiss. "Dance with me, darling?" She doesn't give him time to say no as she pulls him up, holding his hands lightly and twirling. Nigel's laugh is more mocking than anything else and Helen breaks away from James to twirl into Nigel's arms for just a second. James has to sit down after a while, too winded, but Nigel and Helen continue on and it's refreshing to see them as spry as the youngsters down the beach giving them looks occasionally.
James drives them back to the rented bungalow, Helen fast asleep in the passenger seat. Nigel carries her to the room she shares with James, tucking her in. James stands in the doorway, and Nigel can tell where his reading glasses had been resting on his nose. "Thank you," he says to his friend, clasping his arm. "Anytime." Nigel replies.